


Prelude (Suffocation)

by IndigoJuly



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Depression, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Internalized Transphobia, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoJuly/pseuds/IndigoJuly
Summary: Minato's dysphoria is unusually bad. Yukari tries to help, but she's really just there with him. That's all she can do (but maybe that's enough). [Not really explicitly Minato/Yukari, but that's the pretense I was writing under.]
Relationships: Arisato Minato/Takeba Yukari
Kudos: 21





	Prelude (Suffocation)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to me projecting my feelings onto characters again.
> 
> Trigger warning for discussion of dysphoria, internalized transphobia, and feelings of helplessness/depression. It doesn’t really get better at the end of the fic. Take care of yourselves.

“Hey, you ok Minato? You’ve been… kinda quiet lately.” From her bed, Yukari frowned at Minato, who was laying down on the pillows scattering her floor. “I don’t know about you, but this whole thing with The Lost is freaking me out a little…”

Minato glanced at Yukari, pulled from his repeating thoughts. “Yeah, it’s getting pretty bad around town. I’m… well, other stuff has been on my mind too.”

“Mmm, wanna talk about it?”

“...I’m not sure,” he sighed. 

“Why not?” she asked.

“I… don’t know that you’d be interested.” He stared back up at the ceiling. It was pretty unremarkable. Brown, but contrasting with the striped wallpaper. Her radiator rattled in the background.

“Well it’s clearly bothering you, so of course I’m interested. Besides, you helped me a lot with my mom. It’s fine if you still don’t want to,” she added, “But I want you to know that I’m here, ok?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her words. She really cared- he could hear it in her voice as well as her words, the quiet warmth. And she was right. She had opened up to him even when she wanted to handle everything by herself, and talking about it seemed to help. He could try.

“I keep thinking… about my body. It’s not something I normally think about a lot, but it’s been bothering me recently.” That was an understatement. He had spent nights caught up in his thoughts, unable to sleep. Repeating the same words, trying not to believe them, but being unable to stop them, unable to stop.

“Is this about… you know?” Yukari thankfully had some tact. The words were too much, sometimes.

“Yeah,” he sighed. Maybe if he could just sink through the floor and become one with the ceiling, he’d stop worrying about this so much.

“Hey, look at me. Please?" Minato forced himself to look over to Yukari, to feel her eyes bore into his very soul, to expose himself, bear himself before her with just a gaze. "You're a man no matter what anyone says. It doesn't matter what your body is like. And I love you, but not because of your body or in spite of it." 

He has to look away from her, can't take how  _ much _ he feels in that moment. "Thank you, Yukari," he manages. "I appreciate it."

He can feel her concerned gaze still on him, unconvinced. "... You still seem down."

"I just… I can't help but feel that I'll never be  _ enough _ . I don't have… I don't feel whole. And even if... even if I change my body, it's not the  _ same. _ " He hated this part. When he felt empty and raw and tingly and wrong. When he couldn't believe he was good, because his thoughts kept repeating how fucked up he was. When he couldn't quite breath enough to relax and he felt trapped and helpless, falling deeper into himself yet somehow father away. He was so, so tired.

"I…" Yukari shifted, rose from the bed and sat next to Minato. "Can I touch you?"

He nodded and felt her hand slip into his.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Her thumb was brushing back and forth across his hand and he wondered if she could feel the way his body seemed to be going numb. If only he could crawl out of it and never return.

"I don't think so." He was bitter. "It's not fair."

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is supposed to be. I'm just in that kind of headspace, so that's what this turned into. Thanks for reading my 4am garbage. And yes, the title is from Hans von Bulow’s description of Chopin’s Prelude, Op. 28, No. 4. I don’t actually enjoy Chopin all that much, but I couldn’t think of a good title for this one.


End file.
